


4068: Paramount - Dream SMP

by sofaspace



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Anarchy, Angst and Humor, Animalistic Body Modifications, Betrayal, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Feels, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Natural Disasters, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Separations, Slow To Update, Survival, Technology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofaspace/pseuds/sofaspace
Summary: Thanks for checking my story out! A quick note:ALL characters in this story are characters! (I normally refer to them as 2d![character] when it comes to Paramount) Actions in this story does NOT reflect the person the character is based on in any way! This story is a work of my imagination. Enjoy!________Welcome to the Red Colony, known worldwide for its highly anticipated event, Paramount.'Paramount.' The word many had associated with happiness and celebrations. It was a game that society indulged in, and one that they thoroughly enjoyed. A game of hellish environments and situations forced upon those who chose to take on the challenge. An unwinnable battle. It was a dehumanizing event that primarily existed for entertainment.The attempted removal of Paramount had been unsuccessful in the past, no matter how many times organizations had tried to thwart it. It was clear that it was near impossible to rid of this 'event' that colonies all over the world spectated. However, there was a general rule of thumb that most were aware of, but didn't consider often.Even the most stable foundations have a weak spot, whether that be inside or out.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	4068: Paramount - Dream SMP

**_"All warfare is based on deception."_ **

> **_-_ ** _Sun Tzu_

* * *

The time was growing ever closer. 

The arrival of Paramount 4068. Another year, another game. 

For many, it was an excitable time. Celebrations rang through the streets throughout the week prior to the event. Paramount was merely entertainment. Another channel you could just flick to on your television and watch while eating dinner with your family. Electronic billboards practically shoved the name of the 'survival games' - _is that what it was called?_ \- into the faces of those who passed by. Advertisements ran rampant through TV channels as the end of the year grew closer. The voice from the overhead speakers that were drilled into the side of numerous floating buildings blared endlessly (or so it seemed), the flat voice droning on and on about irrelevant information that the spectators didn’t need. They only cared about the feminine voice that called out the current standings of those within the Dome.

But even then, the current Paramount became old news and the public eye honed in on the new competitors. _Out with the old, in with the new._

New Years’ Eve and Day have both become utterly irrelevant and they have been for some time. Paramount’s arrival was the holiday that replaced New Years. Come midnight of the first day of the year, the games began again. The ejection of the previous ‘contestants’, if you could even call them that, came on Christmas night. It was a quiet process that was rarely spectated. Most of those who participated in Paramount were quickly discharged, never to be seen again. They were, sadly, rarely given a second thought. As to their whereabouts, the answers were uncertain and unanswered. The whispers and rumors that roamed the streets implicated that they may have become Sentinals. But they were just rumors. Tidbits of information that were unable to be proven true.

Probably.

The others who didn't disappear from the public eye never really lasted very long in the 'real world.' Society. Many referred to these people as winners, but anyone who lay eyes on them could tell it was on the contrary. These people became disheveled husks of their old selves. The conditions forced upon those within the Dome were harsh and unforgiving. Those who had lost all mental stability were quickly treated as outcasts. Due to the lack of professional help, they were often shipped off to one of the neighboring colonies who could better handle their newfound issues. This process was once frowned upon, but it became a part of society over time. They were locked into place in a secure cabin inside a jet-train and were sent on their way. Once past the colony border, then said colony was no longer at fault if something went wrong. 

There have been times where these distressed 'winners' never showed up at their designated locations. Their disappearance was ruled as a mysterious death. Many speculated that they were consumed by whatever roams the Earth outside of the colonies that dotted the world, so this 'mysterious death' ruling could be correct. However, like most whispers and rumors, they fell onto deaf ears after just a few hours. These kinds of allegations were rarely confirmed; Sentinals ensured that the rumors died where they were spread. But they didn't need to whisper in order to spread the rumors. People within the colonies have learned to pick up on slight changes in the atmosphere. Context clues were important, especially in this kind of environment - one that is heavily sheltered, secretive, and reserved. And they were smart enough to figure out at least the basic idea within seconds. 

But even with the rumors, the speculation, the enthusiasm they try to inject into Paramount, the truth was inevitable. 

People grow bored. They grow tired of the same old thing every year, which is to be expected. It does eventually become unpredictable. They craved change and believe they deserved something _fresh,_ something _new,_ in return for all the support they supplied. Encouraging the Director and his team to figure out something new. 

So this years' Paramount was different. 

This years' participants were hand-selected from their colonies by the officials and brought (note that some didn't gowillingly) to the primary colony in Country #2, formally known as North America. This colony was typically referred to as the Red Colony and is where the Dome lies. It's a towering and massive structure that casts a murky shadow over the city come sundown. There is a viewing deck circling the outer walls that allowed onlookers to gaze inside, however, those within would have no clue. A glorified cage. From the inside, it felt like an entirely new and unfamiliar place. Which was its intention; the layout of the Dome changed every year consistently. It was to keep the participants on edge. 

The personalized selection of Paramount's participants was already strange, but upgrades were added to the Dome. _This_ was something that hadn't happened in years, however, the change wasn't announced until about 4 days after the upgrade had been applied. Those who sat at the control board during the games had now _full_ control of the weather. Prior to 4068, all they could do was press a button and let the Dome do its work. They were now able to control every element of the simulated storms, from the force of an earthquake to the dust that tore through the simulated ruins. This meant everlasting hurricanes, snowstorms that made it impossible to live without a source of major heat - the possibilities were endless. It was clear a person of normal stature wouldn't be able to survive these conditions, so those who ran Paramount made the executive decision to select specific individuals to take part, whether they agreed or not. 

Those who were brought to Paramount 4068 exceeded society's skill level. They had modifications that others had been unable to obtain, albeit some were illegal in the eyes of law. They were forced to be reckoned with, a group of people you would never expect to see with one another. The way technology has advanced is cataclysmic; a marvel. Achieving things that humanity had toyed with in the past, but the idea of bringing said ideas to life was scoffed at. The prosthetics these participants had were, while remarkable, capable of chaos that many had never seen before. 

If Paramount wasn't a survival game before, then it _certainly_ was now. 

* * *

"Please take a step away from the rope! The Director will be out to speak to you shortly."

The robotic droning was barely audible, nearly drowned out by the excited cheers of the ever-growing crowd that stood outside the Dome entrance. Sentinels stood close to the crowd, their emotionless eyes sweeping the crowd. It was about mid-day and was growing closer to the time Paramount's participants would be announced. The crowd was made up of people of all ages, from young children clinging onto their parents' hands to the few elderly people who could stand the rowdy and noisy crowd. A good majority of people have opted to stay home and speculate from the safety of their homes, on their televisions. 

Excited chatter drifted through the afternoon air as the clock continued to tick, and they had yet to lay eyes on the Director. The crowd began to grow restless, pushing against the ropes that the Sentinels had been told to watch. The yells of the robotic guards grew louder and threatening as the hoard began to attempt to surge forward. The electric crackling of a strange device whipped through the air, immediately driving those who were pushing against the rope backward, granting the Sentinals control once more. Once the hoard had finally settled, cameras attached to drone-like devices began to hover overhead, a dull red light flashing on the underside of the drone. People now used drones to view important events such as this one. It made it easier to get good angles and also prevent the hassle of the crowd. Trying to get a good spot to broadcast had been proven difficult time and time again, so society had found a way around it. 

The doors to the Dome swung open and the Director confidently strode out into the sunlight, followed by two monstrous Guardians. Guardians were rarely seen out in public and were primarily manufactured to protect one specific person. They are completely robotic and don't talk, while Sentianls have odd human-esqe behavioral patterns and do speak. They're bulky robots that have an appearance similar to that of what can be described as a gorilla. Beings made of layers upon layers of metal meant to tank through everything anyone could ever throw at them. Forces to be reckoned with. 

The Director's booming voice spooked everyone in the crowd into immediate silence. All eyes and camera drones were redirected towards him. It was almost eerie with how quickly the once difficult to control crowd fell deathly silent. When the Director spoke, people listened; clinging onto every word they possibly could. Craving some sort of information regarding the changes they had noticed. Like a shepherd and his flock of sheep, they followed what he said to a T and did what he asked without hesitation. 

"As most of you have noticed, Paramount won't be the same this year. Earlier last year, our beloved technicians were working for long hours to try and solve our dilemma - elements within the Dome that we were unable to control. The weather conditions within the Dome were widely uncontrollable after we pressed one button," he began, his voice flat and void of all emotion. The Guardian on his right stepped forward and open its hand, a projection of the Dome materializing. The drones hovered close to the projection as the crowd pressed closer, wary of the Sentinels who stood nearby. The Director reached forward and allowed his hands to hover near the side of the projection, pulling his arm backwards. The simulation grew and the details within grew increasingly clear. Snow fell upon a ruined city within, with misty, dark grey clouds hovering overhead. It looked similar to a snow globe. 

"This what we were able to do prior to this update. The simulated snowstorm would never go any harder than this. The most it would do to the contestants is cause a mild disturbance, maybe give one of them frostbite if they were stuck in the collecting snow. This goes for any of the other simulations you all saw in the past. Now, this is what we have power to do _now._ " 

His hand waved over the top of the dome, and it was as if he flipped a switch. The speed of the storm picked up and the clouds thickened, snow pummeling the once clear rubble. It was clearly a sped up simulation, but it was truly terrifying to see the snow pile up at a rapid speed. The snowstorm suddenly stopped, the clouds growing darker and the snow coating the ground fading away, distorting severely until it was completely gone. Rain began pouring down, water crashing through the buildings violently, taking large pieces of brick and other rubble with it. It continued to rise, destorying anything that dared get in the way of the rushing rapids. Just as fast as it had started, it ended; the rain and flood disappeared as if nothing had happened and the rubble restored itself within seconds. Without a beat, the Guardians' fist closed and it returned to its idle stance. The Director redirected his gaze back towards the eager crowd, his arms folding behind his back. 

"Weather events can be stacked on top of each other. With the flick of a switch, all destruction, all ruin - gone," he said, emphasizing this with a finger snap. "So we can then give 4068's participants a couple day break before releasing what we have to next. _This_ is what Paramount was supposed to be. A challenge. A constant pummeling of, for lack of a better word, Hell. It's not supposed to be just like living in the Outskirts. To give spectators a view of what leaving the safety of the colony looks like, while giving those who want to experience something new personally. But this... this is nothing an average person, such as all of you, can survive." His back stiffened and a thin smile spread across his face, his once solem demeanor shifting to a much more enthusiastic one. "For the first time since Paramount first began, technological advancements will be allowed." 

This immediately sparked uproar within the crowd, confusion, and excitement tearing through the once radio silent air. The man allowed them to call out for a moment before he raised his hand, waving it slightly. It took a few moments, but the crowd did eventually settle. 

"Those we have chosen have both weapons and prosthetics that will be upgraded as our technicians see fit." He paused. "Well, what the participants see fit. If they opt-out of getting a couple upgrades to level the playing field, then we cannot help that. But the upgrades they receive are out of their control. Unfortunately, you will be unable to see the modifications and the contestants until the day Paramount starts, since this years' cast has already arrived," he continued, eyes sweeping over the confused and (arguably) heartbroken crowd. The tradition of meeting the participants, getting to see them face to face, provided enthusiasm for what's to come. It also allowed people to make their initial judgments, which is what most looked forward to. Discussing the event with friends after work was a common activity for most people. Kids talked about it during school. "Allow your mind to wander, you'll meet them when the time comes. But for now, all I will tell you is that this Paramount will _not_ be the one to miss." 

As the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and questions, the Director nodded his head before pivoting, the Guardians' following closely behind. The doors clicked shut and the Sentinals began to disperse the crowd.

* * *

"Listen, just because I was a living ragdoll when y'all grabbed me, doesn't mean you have to drag me around! Goddamn, just let me go!" A voice called, the loud banging of the metal doors following shortly after. The low but obviously irritated voice cut through the silence. The hallway they walked through was desolate, the only light sources being the spotlights overhead. The nameplates that hovered near empty capsules provided a faint, colored light, with the names of this years' participants printed in a clear, monospace font, however the two were too busy arguing to take note of any of them. It was eerily silent and Sentinals were stood in between every other door, their expressions neutral. One could swear that their eyes followed the two as they walked by. 

"Watch your profanity. And you would be allowed to walk had you obliged in the first place. Your friend we brought in earlier went without a word." 

"Punz?" The voice exclaimed, followed by a grunt. "You literally dragged us, or, sorry, _me_ out of my house. Am I supposed to just let that happen?" Upon receiving no answer, he continued. "Do we look like we're the same person? Yes, we're friends, but we both have completely different personalities. We aren't robots, unlike you and whoever the hell brought me here in the first place. Speaking of, where is he?" 

"Contestants are not permitted by the Director to see each other, regardless of how you are related to one another. You'll have the opportunity to meet those you know when Paramount begins. However if you continue to struggle and you delay the start of Paramount, then punishment will follow suit, so I suggest you just obey what we say until we get to the Dome. There, you can do what you please. Do you understand, Sapnap? You'll come to find that your actions do have real-world consequences. Just because it's out of sight and out of mind doesn't mean the fallout is just gone. It's a crime against the Central building and the Overseer will not-" 

"Just shut up."

Silence briefly followed before the robot replied. Despite its lack of vocal range, its voice was quieter and somehow sounded _gentle._ "I'm sorry. Step inside of the capsule and stay against the wall, it'll bring you to your holding room until we are prepared. It shouldn't take too long to get there. The Director will use a hologram, located in the corner of the room, to speak to you and the others. Afterward, the wall near the back of the door will open and you will be told to step through. Your belongings, those of which include your weapon, will be returned to you and they will ask if you would like some upgrades. You just need to confirm or deny it. From there, they will take over. I suggest you relax and enjoy the last few moments of 'reality'." Sapnap glanced towards the capsule before stepping in, turning around and leaning against the wall with an unamused expression. As the robot input the code to send it off, it met the boys' eyes. Its head bowed slightly as the door slid shut, sealing him inside. As the capsule jerked upwards, the robot took a step back and returned to an idle pose, however its eyes were unmoving. 

"You may not even come out alive." 

"I know, which is why I stopped struggling after I got thrown inside the train," he replied flatly before the capsule began its ascension, the robot getting one final glimpse as it disappeared from sight.

It waited just a few more moments before the capsule returned and the robot pressed the lock button on the keypad. All of the floating nametags suddenly turned red and the capsules' light turned off one by one. The robot lifted its hand and stared towards its arm before flicking a switch. It read over the names of the contestants and with a sense of accomplishment, it turned and waved her hand. The Sentinals jolted to life and followed after the departing robot as its flat voice faded. It was as though the conversation had never happened, but the robot couldn't control that. It was hardwired to copy sympathy and empathy to those who were in Paramount. Once that task was successfully completed, the robot was back to what it was doing before. 

"All contestants are in their holding rooms. The Director is clear to speak to them in approximately an hour." 


End file.
